


No Grave Can Hold My Body Down

by Torchiclove



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Haircuts, Hurt/Comfort, not explicity romantic but very tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torchiclove/pseuds/Torchiclove
Summary: Daisy crawls out of the buried, living but changed.She crawls home to her.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 15
Kudos: 62





	No Grave Can Hold My Body Down

She crawls from her tomb like a skeleton, like a ghost, like a body that’s forgotten how to be, but her _eyes._

They’re soft and brown. Half-lidded with exhaustion and strain, lacking that harsh yellow tint Basira had become so apt to ignore. They gazed with unparalleled affection as the first words she hears from Daisy in over six months are her name, an exaltation of joy and freedom.

Her heart has hardened in all the wrong places, become a stone wrought by this institute, but nothing softens it like seeing her. Jon gives her a weary smile, legs shaking as he tries to keep Daisy from collapsing to the ground beside him. Basira heaves a sigh and lifts the burden, gingerly placing Daisy’s arm around her shoulder and shifting her weight.

She’s skin and bones, muscles all atrophied, nothing like the lean killer that prowled before. She shakes in every movement, weak and unsure, and it frightens her.

Basira is so _scared._

That drive is gone, that surety, the rock she managed to build her fragile faith on. Daisy does not know what to do and in that Basira is lost, her point of reference cast away. 

But in losing it, she’s found what slipped away from her for far too long. She’s found _Daisy._

All the things that through the years allowed her to turn her eye blind to the monster she watched be born; the dry wit that played so well off her own, the unspoken tenderness in their moments together, the deep and profound care she could feel from Daisy like a lifeline.

It was all there, unclouded, as the dancing visions of moonlit chases were wiped from her mind by crushing earth. It was tragedy mingled with relief; to see the suffering etched so plain across her ruined body, but the veil of the hunt lifted from her mind. 

She only just manages to get her out of the room with the tapes before Daisy collapses, her shaking legs buckling and nearly taking Basira down with her. She’s much lighter than she used to be, the weight of her muscles withered, but the time in the coffin couldn’t change the thick set to her body.

But Basira’s had reason to become strong. Strong enough to hold her, to guide her gently to the ground.

She presses her back against the wall, eyes closed and breathing shallow. Bits of dirt cascade off her body as her chest rises and falls, the thin sheen of dust that coats her finally starting to fall. She looks filthy, not covered head to toe in thick brown mud, but rather caked with grime. Her hair falls down her back, looking dull brown instead of its usual straw blonde, matted and clumped.

“Are you alright?” Basira asks, because it’s all she can think to do. She knows the answer.

“Mm,” Daisy mumbles, eyes still screwed shut, “Can’t...Can’t get my legs right.” She bends one slightly and winces, a gentle crease forming in her forehead.

“Does it—does it hurt?” Basira reaches out and places a tentative hand on her left knee, immediately feeling the dust against her palm. 

“Only when I move,” Daisy groans, taking in a deep, shuddering breath.

“Do you want to get cleaned up?”

“ _Yes_.” She opens her eyes again, squinting slightly even in the faint illumination of the archives. There’s a desperation in them as she looks at Basira, like a final wish. “Please.”

Basira’s gotten used to the archive showers. She doesn’t know _why_ there are showers in the archives, what sick part of Elias knew that he was going to trap people down here eventually. But they’re a small mercy. Better than bathing in the sinks when everything’s too dangerous to go outside, much less have a flat.

She realizes after standing Daisy up that everything will be quicker if she just carries her. Her knees buckle again, almost immediately, and Basira instinctively stoops to stop her from hitting the ground.

“Sorry,” Daisy murmurs, and Basira swears for a second she sees a trail of dust cleared by tear tracks under her eyes. 

“It’s fine,” she says, “I can carry you.”

Daisy looks up at her, sad and slightly pained, but doesn’t argue. She hooks her arm around Basira’s neck, lets her sweep her up into her arms.

She’s lighter than Basira would’ve thought. Or maybe she’s just gotten stronger.

As soon as the water hits the tiled floor, Daisy starts screaming.

She’s still just in her tattered outfit, the one she’d worn the day of the unknowing but ripped and stained beyond recognition by more than a lifetime of earth. All the strength left in her body went towards clamoring away from the noise of the cascading water, chest heaving in quick breaths as she backed up against the wall. 

“Daisy! It’s alright!” 

“Turn it off,” Daisy begs, eyes blown wide with fear.

“It’s just-”

“Turn it _off_ , Basira!”

She sighs and the noise of the water dies just as quick as it started. The only sound left in the room is Daisy’s ragged breath as she slumps against the wall.

“The noise,” she says after a few tense moments, “It was like...It felt like it. It sounded just _like_ it in there, it-”

“It’s okay, Daisy,” she says, but it’s _not_. She’s never seen Daisy this shaken, she’s seen her take a _bullet_ and look more calm. That stark white terror that turns her face ashen, the trembling all in her body, it’s alien. It’s terrifying.

Basira walks over and sits by her, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. She’s still shaking. “Do you still wanna get the dirt off?”

Daisy nods softly.

“I’ll figure something out.”

Jon doesn’t stop her from emptying one of the bigger bins of files and turning it into a makeshift bathtub. Daisy tries to follow, mumbles something soft about not wanting to be left alone, but she still can’t quite walk, and looking at her in this state is starting to get painful.

“I’ll be right back,” Basira says, “Just hang on.”

By the time she drags the big plastic bin in, it’s clear Daisy’s been silently crying. Basira sighs and takes her by the shoulder, breaking the tradition of distance that’s characterized their partnership from the day they met. Daisy’s always shied away from being touched, but now she leans into it immediately, maximizing the contact.

“I can get Melanie to fill that up for you,” Basira says in as soft a voice she can muster, but it’s still clipped by the hard edge she finds herself talking with so often these days, “We’ll sit in storage. Soundproof.”

Daisy just nods silently. Basira picks her up. 

Jon tries to act like he isn’t looking as Basira carries Daisy down to where the files are stored, stopping to say a few words to a confused but indifferent Melanie. Basira raises an eyebrow as she makes pointed eye contact and he looks away, fingers tapping worriedly against his arm. 

She looks away, and can feel that he’s still watching. It’s just something she’ll have to get used to. _Again._

But Daisy looks a little better, at least, as Basira puts her down, opposite the wall that still leads to the tunnels, never bothered to be fixed. It’s something of a legacy, now.

“Weird to think we’re still underground,” Daisy says dreamily, eyes fixed on the dark opening. 

“Only a bit,” Basira murmurs, “Not like. All the way.”

“Definitely not all the way,” Daisy says dryly, her face curling just slightly into a familiar sneer.

“Do you want to go outside?”

She thinks about it for a second, brow creased the way it used to do when she was thinking through a real puzzle of a case. Before she stopped trying to _solve_ them. “I don’t know. Sun might be...too much.”

“Mhm. Tell me if you change your mind.”

They sit in relative silence until Melanie walks by the glass and gives a lazy thumbs up. Basira hums to herself. Daisy, after a few moments, rests her head on Basira’s shoulder. Her hair leaves dust and flecks of mud on her jacket, but she can’t bring herself to mind. When it’s time, she picks her up without a word and brings her back to the bathroom.

The tub is half in the shower stall, filled three quarters with lukewarm water. It’s not ideal, but neither is living in an archive.

“Should I, um, you know?” Daisy pulls at the tattered sleeve of her shirt, and Basira can say she _honestly_ didn’t think about it.

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t _usually_ take a bath with my clothes on.”

“I can go-”

“Don’t,” she says immediately, eyes widening. “I’ll just-it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

She grabs the hem of her shirt and lifts it off, and it’s almost as if it offered no protection from the grime. She’s still caked with it underneath, though Basira doesn’t let her eyes linger too long. Just long enough, she supposes, to see the sharp shape of ribs underneath gaunt skin, and the host of deep purple bruises that marked her whole body. 

She has enough strength to get undressed by herself, to crawl into the tub of water, and Basira takes that as a good sign. She loiters by the door as Daisy bathes, silent except the sounds of the water moving.

“Can you help me with my hair?”

“Sure,” Basira says before she really processes it, taking a step forward, where she sees Daisy sheepishly holding a clump of gnarled, brown mess, caked through with dried mud. Only the ends are wet, like she hasn’t put her head under the water, and once she notices it’s not surprising.

Daisy’s hair is long, always has been, though Basira’s used to seeing it tied up in a ponytail. Down, it reaches a few inches past her shoulders.

“I don’t know if we can save this,” Basira says, looking at the tangled ends, where instead of washing out the clumps of dirt have just turned to mud. She runs her fingers through experimentally, gritting her teeth at the awful texture, and Daisy’s shoulders tense as she tries not to let her know how much it hurts.

“Can you cut it off?” 

“I guess,” Basira says, chuckling slightly, “It’ll probably look awful.”

“I don’t care.”

“Just...finish up and I’ll get some scissors.” Basira thinks for a moment, “I think I can find clippers. And...I’ll get some of my clothes for you.”

“I think I have some in-”

“They got thrown out. Long story.” 

The too-big shirt hanging off her gaunt body just makes her look even smaller. The sweat pants rolled and rolled again, still bunched loose around her bare feet, just barely fitting around her sharp waist. 

“Never realized how tall you are,” Daisy mumbles as she fiddles with the hem of the shirt that hangs halfway down her thigh. 

Basira can’t help but smirk. “You just forget you’re short.”

“Am _not_ ,” Daisy mutters.

“Whatever you say,” Basira chuckles, and for the first time since she crawled from her tomb she sees Daisy give a faint smile. It melts her heart, just a bit. Almost makes her forget the world. _Almost._

“Just do it already,” Daisy says, leaning back against the back of her chair. She looks up at Basira, a pair of scissors in one hand and clippers in the other. Her hair still hangs like a dirty halo around her head, dried the best they could manage. 

Basira takes a chunk of it and positions the scissors, wincing slightly at the gritty resistance. They cut through, though, and the chunk of hair drops like a stone to the floor. 

It’s not that hard, really, once she gets into the rhythm of it. Daisy closes her eyes calmly, her breathing evening out. It looks choppy, of course, but she’s just trying to get the unsalvageable tangles of mud out.

“It’s gonna be pretty short,” Basira says as she’s getting the last of it, cutting away the strands that once framed Daisy’s ears. She turns the clippers on, waiting to see if Daisy reacts to the soft hum.

“Where’d you even get those?” She asks, cracking an eye open to look up at her again.

“They’re Melanie’s, actually,” Basira says, laughing quietly. “She said if she’d have to live here, she might as well learn how to do her own hair.”

“She’s right,” Daisy says with a shrug. “Is it hard?”

“I don’t know,” Basira says, and she presses the guard against the back of Daisy’s neck, where the loose bits of hair are. She tries to do it like she’s seen in pictures, but the lines are all uneven, and she can’t exactly put it _back_ once it’s gone.

The dirt’s gone, at least. It washed out the very top bits, leaving behind the unhealthily thin but familiar straw-blonde, now cropped close. Basira tries to style it, a little, but she doesn’t get far before she gives up, just trying to make it look _okay._

“I think it’s done,” she says, putting the clippers down.

“Do you have a mirror?”

“I have my phone camera.”

Daisy laughs at that, genuinely, short and clipped but there. She extends her hand and Basira hands her phone to her, watches as she looks at her face in the screen.

“Never seen myself with short hair before,” Daisy says, “But it’s good. Feels right, right now.”

“It’ll grow out,” Basira says, absent-mindedly running her hand through the soft fuzz of the shaved bits. 

“I might keep it.”

“I guess it does suit you,” Basira says, and pauses for a moment. “Do you need anything else?”

Daisy looks quickly at the ground, then back up, brow creased again in thought. “Just...stay, alright? Don’t wanna be alone.”

“Yeah,” Basira says, “I can stay.”

_Not for long,_ she leaves out, because she can’t say it to that pleading face, to the eyes that’ve gone soft. She needs to go, to move, to search and find and learn. And she will. She won’t stay forever. But for one night, for right now, she will stay, and listen to the soft patter of Daisy’s voice that’s music sweeter than any she’s known. It’s something she hasn’t heard in years, and the pain of missing it mingles bittersweet with the harsh reality of knowing what’s been lost to find it again.

**Author's Note:**

> i know there's a critical lack of dasira in this fandom so i wanted to TRY and help. always loved the idea of daisy having long hair before the coffin. i haven't written in a long time, so i'm pretty rusty, but i tried, and that's what counts right


End file.
